Two Steps Forward
by Chellero
Summary: A violent intrusion brings certain issues to the forefront for Carter and Reese.


A soft moan left Joss Carter's lips as she tried to concentrate on the bit of information she had for John Reese. He was making it...difficult. "No warrants, no priors." A ragged breath escaped her as Reese moved slowly within her. "He's...he's clean. Nothing there. Not even...a speeding ticket."

He was on his elbows, staring into her face. Concentrating. On what he was hearing and what he was doing. The sensations. "Any known associates?" He waited several seconds but it soon became clear he was losing her. He smiled to himself. Mission number one was being accomplished. Wanting to regain her attention, he reached underneath her, pulling her body off the bed and against his bare chest as he sat up, resting on his haunches. The shift in position jolted her from her trance.

Another moan escaped her as she felt his hands at her hips move her nearly listless body down, up, and back down again, over and over, never breaking his tortuously delicious rhythm. She rushed the words out. "No, no obvious ones I could find."

John shifted them again, back to their original positions. It was time to bring this home. And he did. Muffling her cry and his groan by sealing their lips together, he let his weight fall on top of her, cloaking her body in a familiar, pressure-filled warmth. After about a minute, his lungs had gotten their fill of air and his body was regaining its strength. Lifting his head, he looked at her face again. Her eyes were closed and her head had fallen to the side. His mental _Mission Accomplished_ banner was flapping in the wind. Grinning to himself once again, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

In her semi-awake state, she felt the pressure and warmth on her body disappear as he withdrew from her and left the bed. She half-heartedly wondered what he was thanking her for. The sex or the useless information. If it was for the former, she should be thanking him. She rolled over until she was lying on her stomach, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Leaving?"

Reese reached down and retrieved his underwear, putting the garment back in place. He needed a shower but he'd wasted enough time. And he was only planning on doing surveillance. "Most of the fun happens at night. I need to get eyes on him." It was around eleven thirty. It had been a long day for him, wrapping up one case before another came up on his way home. Carter had been working late so he had asked her to find out what she could about their latest number. Wanting to see her, he told her to give him what she could find when he got to her place. He hadn't meant to make love to her as soon as he got there but sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

It was damn addicting.

"Are you coming back?" The pillow caught most of her voice but he got the gist of it anyway.

"No. Get some sleep." When he was out working overnight, he didn't like to go to her apartment and risk waking her up. At those times, his own place would suffice. Finished dressing he walked back over to the bed. They had fallen on it before folding the sheets and comforter down. She still hadn't moved from her position so he folded one corner down, gently pulled her over to that side, and managed to cover her up. "Goodnight." All he got in return was a grunt.

Mission accomplished indeed.

He saw the light off in Taylor's room as he glanced down the hall on his way out. Leaving the Carters asleep, he locked the door and went on his way.

* * *

Carter woke suddenly when she felt that pressure return, spending nearly a couple seconds wondering if she was dreaming. Wondering if John had come back anyhow. But the idea, that she was dreaming, was quickly stifled, as was her breathing. Her eyes shot open, terror gripping her as fiercely as the hands gripping her throat.

She tried to breathe first. That was automatic. Her brain moving her hands to claw and pull at those around her throat. When her attacker let one hand fall away, she took advantage of the opportunity and concentrated her efforts at removing the one that was left. Only it seemed the constriction of her throat wouldn't let up, his strength, his rage, propelling his vice-like hold. Her eyes were beginning to water, her own strength beginning to reach its peak, that point where she wouldn't have much longer before it waned. Before it was all over.

She heard it then. The sound of a zipper. His pants. That was when she knew. When she made the determination. It wasn't going to happen. She was not about to let this happen.

She let one hand drop from the one he had around her throat, reaching out toward the nightstand. It was dark, so dark, but she knew there was something there. Something. Anything that she could use. She clumsily gripped the remote control. And pulled it up with a force she didn't know she still had in her and clocked the side of his head with it. His grunt accompanied what she knew was his pain and she immediately added to it by shoving his nose into his brain with the heel of her hand.

And she knew then. That it was over. That it wasn't about to happen. The tables had turned.

While he was doubled over in pain, she climbed out from under him and felt for the Louisville slugger she kept in the narrow space between her bed and the nightstand. And she went to work, the adrenaline having aided her eyes in rapidly adjusting to the dark. She beat him with it until she was sure, dead sure that he wasn't about to get up again. She hurried over to the door, flipping up the light switch, her eyes squinting from the harsh intrusion of light. She looked at him, bloody and unconscious, and it took only a moment to recognize him. Edward Kovach. Son of a damn bitch. She rushed over to her closet, finding her robe and covering her naked body before rushing out of the room to find her handcuffs that were stationed with her gear in the living room. Climbing back onto the bed, she restrained him with the cuffs and grabbed her cordless phone on the nightstand, leaving the room once again to walk down the hall. She needed to check on her son. Make sure Kovach didn't do anything to him before attacking her. She opened his door quietly, turning on the light. He was there and looked to be sleeping peacefully. She rushed over to him, placing her hand on his cheek, making sure he was breathing, sleeping soundly, not unconscious or worse. Satisfied that he was unharmed and completely oblivious to what had happened, she turned the light off and closed his door behind herself, immediately dialing 911. She spotted her cell phone on the coffee table beside her couch and quickly turned it off as she spoke to the 911 operator, identifying herself and the situation, glad that the precinct nearest her house wasn't the one where she worked.

She knew one thing, though. John and Finch couldn't know about this. _John_ couldn't know about this. He wasn't planning on coming back to her house which gave her some time to think. About all the lying by omission and outright lying she was going to have to do. As super-humanly tough as he was, she wasn't sure he could handle this.

* * *

Carter sat at her desk the following afternoon, trying her hardest to concentrate on the case research she was doing. She had made it through the night and morning without him knowing. If he had found out, she'd have seen him by now. Her phone was off, had been off since it happened. He and Finch obnoxiously listened in on her via the microphone and knew where she was via the GPS. Big Brother type of shit she only just barely tolerated because they weren't perverts. But she had the feeling she was going to be nipping that in the bud shortly. Sleeping with John and not having a private moment to herself ever because he and Finch were her collective invisible shadow was not going to work.

She felt like she was naked without a working cell phone. It was making her crazy. Along with the general rage at Kovach. Her boss relegating her to her desk because of what happened certainly wasn't helping either. But at least she would be reachable. If Taylor or her mom needed her, they knew to try her desk or Fusco if she didn't answer her cell phone. She thought about Taylor. How scared he'd been when he'd finally woken up from the sound of sirens and commotion outside the safe haven of his bedroom. When she'd had to tell him someone had broken into their home.

Outside of his worry for her, she wondered how long it would take for him to feel safe there again. In his own damn home. This was the second time consequences of her job reached him. It made her ire almost blinding.

She was so damn angry. She thought about the mess in her bedroom. She wanted to burn the linens and bedspread and pillows when she got home. And the mattress pad and mattress. If she'd been wearing any pajamas or underwear, those too. As it was she'd only been able to scrub herself down during the couple of hours she had between having her statement taken and forcing herself to go to work. What Kovach's blood hadn't soaked through and ruined, the memory of what almost happened there had. Her personal space, her safe space, breached. It was a horrible feeling. But she recognized it could have been so much worse.

"Hey. Carter. You-"

She looked up to see Lionel approaching her desk, concern etched deeply in his features. Damn cops gossiped like little schoolgirls. She quickly raised her index finger to her lips to silence him. He now looked concerned _and_ confused. She mouthed the words "cell phone" to him and after another moment of bewilderment, he took it out of his jacket pocket. She grabbed it from him and placed it in her metal desk drawer.

Not being a damn lick of stupid, Fusco knew she was trying to keep certain prying ears out of their ensuing conversation. And if what he'd been told was true, he understood why. "You okay, Carter? What the hell happened? They tell me downstairs that piece of garbage Kovach we arrested awhile back broke into your house last night and-"

"Yeah, but I'm fine." She shook her head briskly, already tired from the inquisition. Her fifth one of the day so far. Fusco had been out all morning in court and she hoped, since half the day was over, he'd be the last.

"You need me to do anything or-"

She straightened up in her seat, indicating she wanted to get back to work. Or at least try. "I'm good Lionel. Thanks." After a few moments, when he hadn't moved from the side of her desk, she looked up at him and plastered a tired smile on her face. "I'm pissed off, I'm tired, but I'll be fine."

Forcing an understanding smile on his face, Fusco nodded and headed over to his desk. He knew she was probably tired of talking about it, thinking about it, being seen as a victim. It had to be hard for her, being a woman in their line of work. So he'd play it cool. But they had a certain mutual acquaintance. A mutual acquaintance who was a little sensitive about the state of his woman's well-being. A woman who didn't seem too keen on sharing her ordeal with said acquaintance. But the Dynamic Duo knew all. Did she know what the hell she was doing? Did he want to be there when that shit hit the fan? Hell. No.

He slid his reading glasses on his face and prepared to stay the hell out of this one.

Unfortunately, however, he had forgotten his ongoing involvement stemming from eighteen months prior. When he placed the doll camera on his desk. That streamed the video image John Reese was concurrently staring at.

He looked up from Finch's desk where he was busy cleaning one of his weapons and maximized the doll camera window. Finch, standing at the well-worn dry erase board removing the photos pertaining to their last, very brief number, turned to him as he heard what was unfolding as well. Finch's brow furrowed as he paused his movements. He remembered Kovach well, if it was the same Edward Kovach Detective Carter verbally annihilated and eventually arrested so many moons ago. As angry as the spouse abuser was at the time, Finch could see him serving his preposterously short sentence and getting out to exact revenge. Revenge that didn't involve any premeditation in the form of data communication the Machine would capture. A type of revenge only a small, weak, pathetic excuse for a man would try to exact.

Once Fusco left the frame and presumably retired to his desk, Reese leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing a mile a minute as he pieced together what was laid out in front of him. He met Finch's eyes for a moment, a look of understanding passing between the two men. He hadn't heard from Carter since the previous night, hadn't tried to contact her either. He and Finch had had a long night, hadn't needed either of the detectives' assistance, stopped an attempted suicide-by-gun, and gone to sleep around four o'clock in the morning. It had been a late start for both of them that day. And that was the only damn reason he hadn't realized her cell phone was off.

Silently, he picked his phone up from the desk and dialed her desk number, muting the doll camera volume. He watched her note the caller ID, hesitate a moment. Then she answered, her usual barked greeting.

"Carter."

"Are you busy?" He kept his voice neutral. Normal. His normal, anyway.

"Uh, not really. What's up? What do you need?" Carter, for once, wanted him to need something from her. Wanted that to be the reason for his call. But the lack of annoyance in her tone, the eagerness- she figured too late- was probably going to tip him off. She winced, hoping he didn't notice.

He bristled slightly. She always automatically assumed he was calling to put her to work. That needed to change. "Lunch?"

"Um, sure. I can get away." Did she want to get away with him? Not in the least. But get his radar up by refusing? No, she needed to go and have lunch with him. Be normal, act normal.

"I'll be there in twenty." He hung up and continued to study her. She looked at her watch before nervously tapping her pen. He rose from Finch's desk, grabbed his suit jacket and left without a word.

It finally came to her in that moment. Sense and rationale. Clarity. Finally. She was being an idiot. An absolute fool. She had to tell him. There was simply no way she would be able to keep it from him, especially if that little bastard refused to plead guilty so this could be wrapped up and out of her damn hair as quickly as possible. But even if she could make it all go away tomorrow, she probably wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Keeping something from him. She wouldn't like it if he did that to her. Hell, she _didn't_ like it. All the secrets he kept from her. But she wouldn't have a leg to stand on if she started doing it to him. Even if it was to shield him from unnecessary guilt and pain.

She rubbed her temple. It was going to be a long twenty minutes.

* * *

Carter had about five minutes until John was supposed to meet her. She grabbed her cell phone and turned it on, told Lionel she was meeting John for lunch, ignored the _Shit's about to go down_ look on his face, and headed for the bathroom. Finished there, she made her way to the front of the precinct, seeing John on his way in. It still tripped her up at times. He would show up in the precinct on a rare occasion now since no one was actively looking for him anymore. He was just a regular guy, like John Warren maybe, having some very brief business with Joss Carter or Lionel Fusco. Tempting fate, living on the edge. His thing.

He saw her and paused, waiting for her to reach him. She smiled at him and he smiled back. It was contagious. Like yawning in response to a yawn. He was glad to see her, see that she was physically fine. But he still wanted to hurt somebody. Somebody named Kovach.

They walked outside and down the steps, side by side, not touching but close enough. It was a beautiful, warm summer day, the breeze making the heat more tolerable. Reese turned to her. "Care what we eat?"

She shook her head.

They walked a few blocks in silence. Not unusual for them, though their thoughts were. She was wondering how to broach the topic, wondering how he would take it. She didn't expect much of an outward display. He was one of those types that kept things inside. One of those that always made a person wonder if he would snap one day. Wonder _when_ he would snap. She thought about the late Peter Arndt and shook the thought away. He'd admitted to her one day, not long before they started sleeping together, that he carried a lot of guilt around. That he did what he did to make amends, to keep his focus outward instead of stewing in introspection he already knew would swallow him up. At this moment, she felt like she was walking on eggshells around him. And that she didn't like. She was fine, he could see that, so she hoped his pre-existing, persistent guilt didn't experience a pile-on after she told him.

Reese wondered why she hadn't told him what happened. Why she didn't call him immediately. Even if she didn't need him to save her, didn't need his help physically, why hadn't she called him to be there for her? Give him the chance to hold her, make sure she was okay? She had to have been scared. If what he thought Kovach was attempting to do was true. He didn't care how damn strong she was. That had to have rattled her. But she didn't call him. She didn't share what had to have been a terrifying experience. Isn't that what couples did? Were they that much of an anomaly? That she didn't feel she could tell him something so important? Or did she simply not want to? Did she simply not want to rely on him for support? Now that he thought about it, she never asked him for anything. Never asked him to do anything for her. Grout the tub, pick up some groceries, help her with a case. Nothing. Ever. She didn't even like for him to hold her those times he spent the night at her house. She claimed she just couldn't sleep that way, but was that all there was to it?

Was she ever planning on telling him?

He stopped at the Greek food truck on the corner and they stood in line. He ordered for them, handed her her food and drink, grabbed his and a few napkins, and together they walked until they found an empty place to sit.

It was silent still while they both took a bite of their food and chewed. Then it wasn't. "Are you okay?" He didn't look at her as he asked. Only fiddled with the wrapper surrounding his gyro. Concentrating on something other than anger.

"Yeah. Why?" She eyed him warily. Waited for it.

"What happened?"

She sighed quietly and shifted so that she was facing forward, eyes momentarily closed. She had planned on telling him. She had. But she suddenly stopped caring about all of that now. She knew it couldn't have been Fusco. So how in the hell did he already know? "Nothing. I'm fine." She turned back to him, that unreleased anger from earlier flaring up again. "How did you know?" She watched him continue to play with his food, clearly no longer interested in eating it.

"Doesn't matter. Tell me what happened."

"I told you. Nothing. Now you tell me how the hell you knew. My phone's been off all day." A thought struck her and she decided to strike him with it. "John, tell me you do not have bugs or cameras in my house. Tell me." She waited for an answer. Dreading and needing it at the same time. She watched the side of his face as he rolled the gyro between his hands, looking as though he were contemplating what or how much to tell her.

Apparently he ultimately decided on nothing.

She met his eyes as he finally turned to look at her.

"Did he hurt you, Joss?"

She leaned away from him then. Slightly. Not expecting that circumvention. "Are you serious? That's what we're doing? You're not going to tell me-"

"Joss, I just need to-"

Carter got up to leave, a "Thanks for lunch," echoing in her jasmine-scented trail.

John lowered his head for a moment, drawing in a few deep, cleansing breaths, deciding not to go after her. He dialed Finch instead.

"Mr. Reese."

"Finch, I need you to get Carter's locks changed. And she's getting a security system installed by tonight."

"Is she alright? What happened?" He had given them the courtesy of not listening in after John left.

"That son of a bitch tried to rape her." She hadn't outright said it to him- or Fusco when he was listening- but she didn't need to. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

_Oh dear Lord._ Finch had thought it, too, but didn't want to put it out there. Who would? "Tried?"

John ignored the question. He needed to for now. Until he got her to talk to him. He didn't want to know how far Kovach had gotten. He knew she was a heavy sleeper. He knew how he'd left her. Exhausted, naked, and vulnerable. If she hadn't gotten back up again-he'd never known her to get up in the middle of the night-Kovach had at least gotten an eyeful. At least. Of his Joss. Maybe even touched her. John balled his hands into fists. He really wanted to hurt someone right now. He really wanted to hurt Kovach. Badly. Right now. "Can you get it done by tonight?"

"I can, John, but is she aware of this?" _Not to mention her apartment manager_, he thought.

"She will be."

Finch took that as a no. He wanted to sigh in exasperation but he kept it to himself. They were two headstrong people. And their being in a relationship was not making anything easier for anybody. He knew what they saw in one another, knew it was inevitable, but it still seemed like a recipe for disaster. And it was too late to do anything about it. All he could do now was maneuver around them as best he could. "I'll get on it, John."

John closed his eyes and sighed. At least there was one less thing to worry about. "Thanks, Harold."

"John?" Finch waited for a response but didn't get one. Apparently John was already talked out. "Kovach's in custody." He had to. He just had to remind his partner.

"Think that would stop me, Harold?"

"I just need you to think, John. That's all." Harold disconnected the call. And hoped for the best. He shook his head. Carter and Reese together was a complication he truly did not need. But that genie could never be put back into the bottle.

As Carter made her way back to her precinct, her blood was boiling. None of this was John's fault but he was her new, shiny, available target. There was no way, no way in hell he and Finch had surveillance in her house without her knowledge. Listening in on her through her phone was already just barely within her toleration limits. Bugs in her house, though? She had to be wrong about that. She had to be. Her bedroom? Her bathroom? Where did it end? Could she pick her damn nose without one of them knowing about it?

And that was it. That was the problem. In the few short months since they'd let their attraction to one another take over their interactions, she found herself getting way too emotionally attached to John. However, there was an all too significant imbalance in their relationship. A power imbalance she was on the losing end of. He knew a lot more about her than she knew about him. He and Finch overtly eavesdropped on her and she didn't, probably couldn't, eavesdrop on them. He knew where she worked. She didn't know where he worked. She didn't know where he and Finch met up. He had some secret source he wouldn't tell her about. She figured it was some Super Secret government surveillance thing Super Hacker Finch had some kind of Super Secret access to. But, still, she didn't truly know. And knowledge was power. Now that she thought about it, she was surprised John even let her know where he lived.

What the hell kind of relationship was that?

She made it back to her precinct. But now she was wondering what the point was. She definitely wasn't going to get anything done. She didn't want her boss thinking she really wasn't okay so she decided not to peel off early. She would have to stay for the rest of the day.

She had just settled back behind her desk, watching Fusco try not to act curious about her short as hell lunch break and the barely eaten lunch still in her hands, when her cell phone vibrated. She looked at it and frowned. Harold and John changed their phone numbers all the time. She never knew which one of them was calling. Assuming it was John again, she ignored the call. But he wouldn't give up. Finally she turned the phone off again. Before her desk phone rang. She snatched it up, not wanting the attention from ignoring a continuous string of phone calls. "Carter."

"Detective."

"Finch." She wasn't relieved.

"Are you alright? I heard what happened."

_Of course you did_. "I'm fine. What can I do for you?" Yet another thing that annoyed her. If she had an argument with John, his partner would immediately know about it and things would just be awkward. For all four of them.

She and John had pretty much ignored their fellow team members' feelings when they got together. Ignored how weird the new dynamic would be. It was selfish really. They knew people adjusted to changes all the time. And they knew they would continue their dangerous, philanthropic work. So they left it at that, ignoring the all too real possibility a nasty, emotionally-charged break up could damage things irreparably. That the feelings between them could lead to choices made out of emotion instead of logic when they were both involved. The pull had just been too strong. Too strong to fight any longer. One searing look, one kiss from him, and she was gone.

"Actually I was calling to inform you that we were considering changing the locks in your apartment and installing a security system. For Taylor's and your peace of mind, after what happened."

She didn't want a fight. And it was probably a good idea. The security system at least. A changed lock wouldn't do anything. But she really didn't want to fight. "Okay. That's fine. Thank you."

He recognized the tired defeat in her voice. "Not a problem." He waited a beat. "Is there anything else you need? Anything else I can do?"

Carter rubbed her forehead as she held the phone to her ear. "No...Well actually," she sat up in her chair. "Could you...my bedroom's a mess. Could you maybe have somebody- "

"Done, Detective."

Carter smiled tiredly. "Thanks." Just after noting all the annoying things, a perk finally. Having an associate with limitless resources had its benefits.

* * *

Reese surveyed the room. Not much was askew, at least not anything Carter or he hadn't done themselves. Her closet door was open as usual, same two out of three pairs of shoes in her rotation lying in the corner next to her laundry basket of dirty clothes. The third pair were currently on her feet. Her dresser topped with her body splashes and expensive perfumes he had yet to smell on her were undisturbed, along with her combs, brush, hair products, and small jewelry box. The bedroom television, bolted to the wall like her living room television, was at its usual angle, her chest of drawers unmoved, holding up a dusty lamp, pictures of a buck-toothed, pre-braces Taylor he likely made her keep hidden in her room instead of in the living room out in the open, and a King James Bible that looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. All of it was there unblemished, untouched.

There were no signs of a struggle. No evidence of a violent intruder.

Except the center of the room. Her bed. His frown deepened as he paused at the foot. The sheets and bedspread were twisted and hanging halfway off the bed. A small pool of blood was just off center on the dove gray fitted sheet, splotches of it in the upper left quadrant of the bed as well, one pillow on the floor. She had looked unscathed when he saw her, didn't move haltingly or stiffly, so he deduced her clothes weren't hiding any injuries. It was more than likely Kovach's blood. His mouth twitched in a smile for half a second. He moved around the bed, eyed the baseball bat lying on the floor, out of its usual place between her headboard and the nightstand. The twitch returned for another half second before the frown reclaimed the crown.

He stood there another moment. Not liking it. Not liking the feeling of helplessness that was washing over him. She had handled it without him, he was damn glad she had, but he couldn't help but feeling he should have been there. It was his business to help people in danger. But he wasn't there for Carter. It was irrational thinking. He knew it. He wasn't psychic. He was just a man. A man who could only do so much. And she hadn't needed him. She'd taken care of herself. The point was utterly moot.

He needed to work on it more. Letting go of the control he now needed over every aspect of his life, which prominently included her. The control over her safety, her well-being. She didn't need to be saved. She needed an equal, a partner. Someone to engage in the battles with her, not for her. He wasn't there yet, though. He wasn't that guy. The one she needed. Not yet. He needed more time. Jessica's senseless murder had made him this way and he wasn't going to change overnight. And this, what Kovach had tried to do to Joss, wasn't helping. Because he was already contemplating sleeping in this room with her every night for the rest of his life, whether he would be waking her up coming in in the middle of the night or not. He was already contemplating bringing over half of his wardrobe. Because nobody was ever going to do anything like this to her ever again.

He released a deep sigh before beginning to strip the bed. He didn't want her coming home to this. And it made the sense of delayed powerlessness less overwhelming. After he'd removed the linens, he walked to the kitchen to find a trash bag when his pocket buzzed.

"John?"

"Was just about to call you, Finch."

"Did you need something?"

"Know where I can get a mattress delivered today?"

"I'm sure I can find one. You're there?" He asked as a courtesy. The natural flow of conversation and all. He knew good and well where Reese was.

"I want to get it straightened up."

"I have some people coming to install the security system. Cardinal Security. A locksmith from Treeway Locksmiths will be delivering the new deadbolt. If you're going to be there, you can let them in."

"I'll be here. Thanks."

"She asked me to get someone to straighten up her bedroom when I called a little while ago. Besides a mattress, what else do you think it needs?"

"Just a queen-sized mattress. I'll take care of the rest."

"I'll be in touch, Mr. Reese."

"Was she...How'd she sound?" He had to ask. He needed to know. Not because of their argument but because Finch had just told him she actually asked him to do something for her. Asked him to get rid of the mess in her room. She didn't want to look at it again. The crime scene. She could say she was fine all she wanted. Beautiful as she was, she was a damn liar.

"Tired. Just tired, John." Finch left it at that. Getting into people's business was his business. But their personal business was their own.

* * *

"John." Taylor looked around after entering the unlocked apartment following school. "What's going on?"

The two-man work crew from Cardinal was finishing up. The locksmith had just left and Reese was waiting for the same-day delivery of the mattress. He had already taken the old one to the dumpster. It had only been four hours since his aborted lunch with Carter and things were shaping up nicely. It paid to have Finch's money. Or maybe Finch owned Cardinal and Treeway and that's why they were able to get there so fast. Who knew. "New security system." He walked over to the teenager, trying to study him covertly. He realized he didn't even know where Taylor had been when all of it went down. If he'd witnessed anything or slept through it all. All he knew was that the teen had been asleep in his room when he left last night. "Are you okay?"

Taylor shrugged, dropping his book bag on the couch. "Yeah. Just worried about my mom. So it was some guy she arrested?"

Reese nodded and watched as Taylor shook his head.

"I know I should be used to it by now but I still get scared sometimes that she won't come home."

Reese swallowed. His unspoken fear vocalized by her son. "Me too." He cleared his throat. "Did you see what happened?"

Taylor shook his head again. "No, I heard sirens sounding like they were right outside and saw the light was on in the living room from underneath my door. Got up and she told me someone broke in. Someone she arrested before.

"They took him out on a stretcher."

_Should have been a body bag._ "Good."

Taylor turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's why I try not to worry too much. She's tough."

Reese watched the men gathering up their gear and simply nodded.

"He was in her room." Taylor didn't want to ask it. Figured John would tell him at his prompt. Hoped anyway.

But John didn't. He nodded again, and left him to go talk with the technicians. Taylor was only sixteen, and he didn't know John all that well, but he felt that chill. That anger that suddenly cloaked his mother's boyfriend. She had sworn she was okay, looked okay, too, but Taylor knew now. Why that guy was in her bedroom. He felt a special sort of sick to his stomach and wholly understood that anger.

* * *

Carter reached the outside of her door and noticed the new locks. That had been quick as hell. She didn't think it would have gotten done today, otherwise she would have been sure to get home before her son did to let him in. As it was she figured he was inside safe and sound. Because one of Harold's fleet of vehicles was parked outside.

She tried the door handle to see if they'd left it unlocked. They hadn't. She rang the doorbell.

"Hey, Mom."

She smiled at her son as he let her into the apartment, knowing he needed reassurance. The worry that asshole caused was written all over his young face. She closed the door behind herself and immediately pulled him into her arms, squeezing as hard as she could for a moment before releasing him, leaving her hands on his upper arms. "How was school? You okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same question."

She looked up into his eyes for a moment, seeing more of that worry. Seeing him trying to push it back. "He didn't hurt me, okay? It's over. I'm fine. You don't need to worry anymore, okay, T? John?" She turned and included the suited individual on her couch in her declaration. She turned back to her son. "Now. You gonna be okay?" She watched as a small smile crept to his face.

"Yeah, I'm good, Mom."

"Good. Now what smells so good?" She headed toward the kitchen. "I'm ready to eat."

John raised himself from the couch and joined the Carters in the kitchen.

* * *

Carter and Reese sat in the living room eating their dinner, watching the 6 o'clock evening news. As was his usual practice, Taylor took his food to his room to eat. Typical teenage privacy desires. She harrumphed at the thought. She used to know a thing called privacy. She also knew he had been trying to give her some alone time with the new man in her life. Taylor seemed to be adjusting okay. She hadn't brought a man home in probably four or five years now, and Taylor was much younger then. He seemed okay with John, and she suspected that had a whole lot to do with her entrusting John with his life during that harrowing kidnapping ordeal. Since she trusted John that much, Taylor had probably decided to as well. And that went a long way in keeping the two men in her life on good terms. They hadn't progressed to the point of spending time together doing "man" things but maybe that would come later. Or maybe not. Nothing about this situation was conventional. John may not have law enforcement on his ass at the moment but that could always change. He was still an unabashed criminal, living life on the edge, and she had to admit she appreciated the comfortable distance that was still between him and her child.

They had said nothing to one another, save for a comment or two about the food in the kitchen before settling on the couch to be entertained by the television instead of each other. That is, until Reese decided to break the silence. "Alarm system code is 0-5-0-3." He didn't bother writing it down. He knew she'd recognize it as his birthday and wouldn't need to memorize it. He shrugged. "I had to come to up with something no one would guess. You can always call them and change it. Or I'm sure Finch can do it for you." He leaned forward to place his plate on the coffee table. "Let me show you." He rose from the couch and she followed his lead to the front door.

After he'd instructed her on how the system worked, she nodded. "How much is this going to cost me a month anyway?"

"It's not. I'm taking care of it." He watched her face, saw the expected annoyance and lack of comfort at the idea of not paying for it herself.

She eyed him, wanting to argue with this arrangement, even though the whole thing wasn't her idea in the first place. But she was tired. So she kept her mouth shut. She turned and looked at the door absentmindedly. Sighing softly, she spoke. "I can't keep my eyes open."

He looked at her and nodded. He noticed she hadn't been in her room yet. Not even to deposit her suit jacket or shoes like she usually did. Instead, the jacket lay atop the couch, her shoes next to the couch instead of with the other two in her rotation. He grabbed her hand and led her to her room. Once inside, he turned on the light and they both looked around.

"Thank you." The room looked pristine. Like nothing happened.

He nodded. "New mattress."

"Needed another one anyway."

He smiled briefly. That was true. It had been uncomfortable as hell to him but he suspected she was used to it. Hand still around hers, he decided to clear the air. "There aren't any cameras in your house, Carter. No bugs. Nothing.

"I knew because there's a camera on Fusco's desk. The policeman doll. It's pointed toward your desk." He felt her hand slip from his and watched as she stepped in front of him.

That explained it. And she felt a huge relief knowing those two surveillance-happy vigilantes hadn't gone that far. It was good to know they had some boundaries. Because that would have been grounds for a dissolution of the whole shebang, no matter how much she was going to miss the hell out of his beautiful ass. But still. This was generally fucked up. Why not tell her it was there?

She folded her arms across her chest. "Is there something on my desk then? Something to watch Fusco with?"

"No." He watched as she let that sink in. Watched that anger underneath the surface.

"Why?"

"We had Fusco put it there when we were trying to keep Elias from killing you." He watched as remembrance crossed her features. Watched as she recalled when the doll arrived and what had happened soon after. He watched as she swallowed. The angry wind suddenly gone from her sails until just a light, simmering breeze remained.

Still, she couldn't let it rest at that. "I want it gone. All of it, actually. No more listening in on my conversations. None of that. It's too much. Maybe it doesn't bother you but it bothers me." All she could think about was how many times they must have seen her dig a booger out of her nose when she thought no one was looking, or pull out a wedgie when she thought the same. How much did the man she was sleeping with, along with his partner, know about her not so cute habits? It made her uncomfortable and ticked her off. Not knowing about being watched was a terrible feeling. She watched incredulously as he shook his head. And got even more ticked off.

"No." He watched her face. Saw her shock at his gall. Saw the wheels turning in her head as she grappled with what to say to his defiance. "If you need me and can't make a phone call, I'll know."

She took a deep breath. "I understand that, and I appreciate it, but I can't take this. I need some privacy, John."

"And I need to know you're not in any trouble."

"No, what you need is to not date a cop. You need a nice doctor or nurse or engineer or something. Not me."

"Tried that, Carter. Didn't matter."

She sighed softly, figuring out too late that that wasn't the best argument to make. "This isn't going to work, then, John." She didn't know exactly which "this" she was referring to. "This" impasse, "this" work relationship, "this" personal relationship. She'd just said it. Because she felt like it needed to be said. She was pissed off and she wanted him to feel it.

He knew she was right. Knew his need to keep her in his own version of a bubble wasn't what she needed or wanted. But it was how it was going to be for now. It was how he was for now. She could take him or leave him. He wanted to give her enough reason to take him. Because he wasn't going to leave her. He'd be around. Even if she didn't know it. He looked over toward her bed. "Jessica called me right before her husband killed her. I hadn't seen or heard from her in four years. Just out of the blue, she decided to try my number. She sounded...depressed. Scared. Wouldn't tell me what was going on but I knew she needed me.

"I told her I was going to be there in twenty-four hours but I got new orders and was delayed." He finally turned to look at Carter. "I was too late."

She swallowed. She knew John had exacted revenge for Jessica's death but she didn't know about that guilt. He'd told her about the other guilt. Not this. _Jesus_. There was more to what was going on with him when she first met him. "I didn't know that, John. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine." She watched as he nodded and looked away again. She didn't know what to say to him. It would all sound so hollow.

And he wasn't there last night. She hadn't needed him and she didn't blame him. But it was probably eating away at him. He was so ridiculously physically tough but so damn sensitive at the same time. It was endearing but she worried about the fragility of his mental health. She didn't want him to lose it one day. And definitely not over her. It was still too soon for him. Too soon to be in another relationship. But it was too damn late now.

"So," he turned back to her, an angry determination on his face. "The surveillance stays. I know you don't need it. I know you don't want it. But I'm not going through that again."

She held his eyes, feeling terrible for him, feeling pissed off at him that he was going against her demands. Feeling like she had gotten nowhere as far as her personal space went. Feeling somehow closer to him. She stepped to him and reached out and touched his forearm. "John, if anything ever happens to me, you have to promise me you won't let it eat away at you. Promise me you'll understand it happened because it was supposed to. You are not God. You can't control what happens to everyone you care about. When it's their time, it's their time." It was what she told herself anyway. As she tried to prepare herself for his likely violent demise. Her eyes pleaded with his. Saw them try to accept what she was saying. But she missed her mark. She knew that when the raw emotion left them and anger returned.

"What did Kovach do to you, Joss?"

She sighed. He wasn't going to rest until he knew exactly what he'd missed protecting her from. Maybe if he knew it was nothing, he'd begin to let it go. She loved the man dearly but he needed therapy. That's what Finch should have done for him. Of course, no one would do what he did for a living if he wasn't broken. And he was doing a lot of good for a lot of people. Had saved her as well. She couldn't be sure if it was healing him or not. But he wasn't twenty anymore. Even if he managed not to get killed, he wouldn't be able to do it forever. Then what? Her concern for him prodded her to talk about what happened. What almost happened. She wasn't ready to talk about it. Wanted to forget it. But maybe it would help both of them. "I woke up and he was on top of me. For a second I thought it was you. Then he started choking me and...when I heard him unzip his pants, I knew I had to get him off me. And I did. Then I got my bat and made sure he wasn't going to get back up again. That's it. That's all that happened." She watched as he nodded and looked away as though he were pondering something.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

She thought she detected pain in his voice. Hurt. "Eventually, yeah, but only because I knew I couldn't keep it from you forever. Since you and Finch insist on stalking me. I didn't want you to know because I didn't want you to do what you're doing. Worrying to death. Feeling bad that you left."

His eyes remained fixated elsewhere. "I can't shut it off, Joss. I'm sorry, I just can't." A ragged breath left his throat. "You mean too much to me now." It had been a long time since he'd cared about someone this much. It was changing him. Making him look forward to not just tomorrow, but a few weeks down the line. He found himself wanting to take her here, there. Get her to try the new food dish he'd had, drag her with him to the cooking classes for two he'd seen advertised around the city. He wanted to share things, do things with her. When he saw something utterly ridiculous walking the New York City streets, he wanted to tell her first.

And that, he thought, after everything he'd been through, was a damn miracle.

He hated thinking it but sometimes he wished he'd never met her. Never become infatuated with her. Never left himself vulnerable to her assault on his being, his heart. But it was too damn late now.

Wanting to do what she'd deprived him of the night before, he stepped to her and pulled her into his arms. Held her tight. Assured himself she was fine. Safe. For the moment anyway. She'd needed it as much as he did. She held him about his waist and he felt her body tremble. She was exhausted, feelings getting the best of her. If she weren't so tired, she probably would have pushed away from him by now, he figured. This wasn't something she did. Let him see her like this. He rubbed concentric circles on her back. He tried to fight the anger that was building once more.

She found her voice and the confession escaped her unprovoked. "I don't think I've ever been that scared for myself before in my life." She left her cheek pressed to his chest, refusing to cry. Instead her body shook from the memory. "I've been shot at, shot, almost blown to bits, beaten up," she felt his body stiffen at the latter. "But this is the only thing that truly terrified me. I don't think I would have been able to get past something like that."

John stopped rubbing her back and squeezed her again. He knew he wouldn't have been able to. Thankfully, they didn't have to worry about that.

It was still early. Not even seven o'clock yet. But she needed to get some sleep. "I'll get rid of the doll camera tomorrow." He was in a giving mood suddenly. Compromise was on his mind. The result of good vibes from feeling let in by the uber independent woman he held. He would have to settle for audio only. They didn't get much from the camera anyway. If she were in any kind of danger, it probably wouldn't happen at her desk in the precinct.

He coaxed himself from her hold, started her shower, and waited until she finished. When he got her settled in the bed, she asked him if he had to go. He told her he was staying, took his own shower, put on the same underwear making a mental note to bring some from his place next time, and settled in beside her.

She attached herself to his side.

And let him hold her.

* * *

"Lionel."

"Yeah, what is it?"

Reese sat on his couch two days later holding his cell phone to his ear. Finch had refused to do what he asked. Told him that if he insisted, he was on his own. So he had had to turn to Fusco. Fusco wasn't a lot of things, but he was most definitely discreet. And he understood. Sometimes one had to get his hands dirty. "I need you to find out when Kovach's being arraigned. I need to know when he's being transported to the courthouse." The arraignment had been a couple days later than he expected since Joss had put Kovach in the hospital for thirty-six hours before he could even be booked.

Fusco thought about asking why. But quickly realized that would have been a stupid ass question. "Give me a minute. I'll call you back." He hung up the phone. So much for staying out of this one.

Shit was going down and there wasn't anything anybody could do to stop it.

A/N: Thank you for reading!


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